


The Agreement

by orphean



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Consent Issues, Identity Porn, Ignored Safeword, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Objectification, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29944533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphean/pseuds/orphean
Summary: ‘Harvey.’ Bruce said, hands in his pockets.‘It’s Two-Face, Mr Wayne.’As part of the agreement with Batman, Two-Face hadn’t brought any weapons. His fingers itched for a gun. If he had a gun, he’d know how to deal with the way Bruce was looking at him, an eyebrow raised and a skeptic look on his face.‘I think considering what we’re going to do, Bruce will be fine.’ He moved to the bed and put a nondescript paper bag on the bedside table. ‘I brought supplies. And before you do anything, we need to talk. Establish boundaries.’
Relationships: Harvey Dent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 7
Kudos: 34





	The Agreement

**Author's Note:**

> hooooo boy! Sometimes you just wanna write some problematic smut, y’know? Please mind the tags – there are consent issues ahoy, both related to secret identities (as Two-Face doesn’t know Bruce and Batman are the same person) as well as related to sexual situations and using protection. The internalised homophobia brings with it some slurs. If there are any additional tags you think should be added, please let me know. All that said, enjoy!

Two-Face had entered the hotel room thirty minutes earlier, climbing up the fire stairs and entering through a conveniently unlocked window. He had checked the room for bugs before he sat down on the loveseat and waited for the hour to strike. As the final five o’clock knell of the Gotham Cathedral’s bells resonated through the city, Two-Face heard the sound of a keycard unlocking the mechanism. A moment later, the door swung open and Bruce Wayne stepped inside.

Bruce Wayne looked as rich and elegant as he ever had: his dark hair slicked back with product; his fine suit accentuating his strong shoulders and narrow waist. Two-Face remembered being Harvey and he remembered Harvey’s fierce adoration for the man, his devotion that, physically, never strayed from platonic no matter what he dreamed of at night. (Harvey Dent was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a faggot.) The Bruce Wayne that Harvey had known smiled a lot, an easy grin that lit up his face at each of Harvey’s stupid jokes. The Bruce Wayne in front of him wasn’t smiling. Then again, maybe he didn’t have much to smile about.

‘Harvey.’ Bruce said, hands in his pockets.

‘It’s Two-Face, Mr Wayne.’

As part of the agreement with Batman, Two-Face hadn’t brought any weapons. His fingers itched for a gun. If he had a gun, he’d know how to deal with the way Bruce was looking at him, an eyebrow raised and a skeptic look on his face.

‘I think considering what we’re going to do, Bruce will be fine.’ He moved to the bed and put a nondescript paper bag on the bedside table. ‘I brought supplies. And before you do anything, we need to talk. Establish boundaries.’

Two-Face ambled over to where the other man stood, boxing him against the edge of the bed. Bruce stayed still, only the barest stiffening in his shoulders betraying that he was aware of Two-Face’s presence. He smelled slightly of oranges. Two-Face leaned in to inhale his cologne. It was heady and spiced, like mulled cider after a long winter walk. Harvey had always liked autumn smells. To Two-Face, they were too sweet, too spicy, too artificial.

‘I already established boundaries with your pimp.’

‘He’s not my pimp.’ Bruce spat out the words.

‘I told him I wanted to fuck you and he offered you to me. He didn’t call you to ask if you wanted to be fucked by me. He made a deal with me on the spot and here you are. Did you know that solicitation, as a first offense, carries with it up to six months in jail? I may be disbarred, but my non-professional advice would be to run as far as you can.’ Two-Face felt Bruce shiver when he touched him for the first time, running his fingers down his side, planting his palm over Bruce’s stomach. ‘Tell me, Bruce, how many other bad men has Batman whored you out to?’

Bruce half-turned, fire in his eyes. Their faces were so close. Two-Face would only have to lean in a couple of inches, and he’d claim that mouth that Harvey had dreamed of for years. (Harvey had wanted to kiss Bruce softly, gasp against his lips and try again, kiss him until he had figured it out right, until Bruce melted into his touch. Two-Face wanted to bite that girlish mouth, taste Bruce’s blood, Harvey’s defeat.)

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. And before you touch me again, we are setting boundaries.’

With surprising agility, Bruce slipped out of Two-Face’s grip and moved across the bed. He sat down on the other side of the bed, his hands raised in warning.

‘If I tell you to slow down, you slow down. If I tell you to stop, you _stop_. No,’ Bruce snarled at Two-Face’s _hmph_ , ‘that is not negotiable. If I tell you to stop, you stop at once. Is that clear?’ Whatever Bruce saw in Two-Face’s expression must have satisfied him, though he still frowned as he continued. ‘If I tell you to use more lube, you will use more lube. You are not to use any kind of implements without my expressed permission. You can _not_ cause me any kind of permanent damage.’

Two-Face knew plenty of ways to hurt without causing permanent damage. If Batman and Bruce Wayne were as close as they had to be for him to agree to this, Bruce would know this too.

‘But I can slap you.’

‘Yes. You can slap me. You can slap me and you choke me, but only if you can do it so that it doesn’t cause any damage to my throat. If I can’t speak and I tap my right hand three times against whatever surface, you stop at once. Is that understood?’

‘Yeah, yeah, it’s clear. I get to fuck Batman’s bitch as long as I treat you with kid gloves.’

‘I’m not Batman’s bitch.’ Bruce snapped. Harvey’s stomach would always swoop when Bruce swore, because it was always so crass and unexpected. Two-Face was furious he felt the same excitement. ‘One more thing: the only things I am willing to do is blow you and let you fuck me. Nothing else. If you try anything else, your agreement with Batman is void and he will take you to the authorities.’

‘You’re saying you don’t want me to suck you off?’ Two-Face asked, splitting his face into a grin that made children cry. It barely made Bruce Wayne blink. He shook his head.

‘I’m not here for myself. I’m here because you and Batman made a deal. If I uphold Batman’s part of the deal, you will leave Gotham.’ Bruce swallowed, and for the barest second Two-Face saw something complicated and sad flutter across his face. ‘I want to see you gone.’

Bruce stared Two-Face in the eye, defiant and unyielding. Two-Face, unwilling to be the first to break away, to give up, opened his mouth.

‘In that case, it’s time for you to strip. I’m going to sit on that sofa and you are going to put on a show for me. You’re better-looking than the girls at Penguin’s gentleman clubs, after all.’ Two-Face leaned back on the loveseat, biting his finger as he watched Bruce approach. ‘Come on, baby, show me those tits.’

Bruce undressed. He started with his shoes, followed by his jacket, shirt, and slacks. Twice, Two-Face had to tell him to slow down, to take his time. Bruce kept his eyes trained on Two-Face, his face hard and impassive. Bruce’s face was impassive and unaffected, but his body betrayed him. His nipples, dark and rosy, were hard in a way that couldn’t be explained by the room’s balmy temperature. He wasn’t hard, not quite, but his cock hung heavy, each twitch making him that much harder. When he slipped out of his underwear, he shuddered. Two-Face wanted to see him shudder again.

‘Come here.’

Wearing nothing but socks and garters, Bruce closed the last few steps between them and Two-Face reached out to touch him. He rested three fingers against Bruce’s clavicle and let them run down his body. Bruce’s skin was pale and Two-Face’s fingers grazed over faded scars. He filed away the question of what the hell Batman did to Bruce and focused on his open-mouthed gasp when he rubbed a fingertip over his right nipple. Two-Face couldn’t remember the last time he touched someone where they leaned into the touch the way Bruce did, where he did not feel like a freak. Bruce’s skin was smooth and free of hair, from the expanse of his chest down to between his legs. Two-Face had known that Bruce Wayne was attractive, but it was one thing to be aware of it, another to have him offered up in front of you.

‘If I touch your dick, will your boyfriend lock me up?’

‘Batman’s not my boyfriend.’ Bruce muttered, his voice distracted. ‘You can touch me.’

Two-Face had never sucked a cock in his life and he wasn’t going to start now, but Bruce’s was appealing, long and circumcised, tip already beading with precum. His skin was like silk. He shivered when Two-Face brushed his thumb over the tip, spreading the precum over his head.

‘You’re hard for me and we’ve not even gotten started. Tell me, Brucie, what’s turning you on?’ Two-Face looked up at Bruce, who pressed his cocksucker lips together and said nothing. ‘Are you just excited to be used like the slut you are?’

Bruce stayed quiet, but his cock jumped under Two-Face’s fingers. Two-Face pulled his hand away and pressed the wet thumb against his tongue. He licked over the pad of his thumb and cleaned off the taste of Bruce, and tugged his belt open. ( _How do you like that, Harvey? Is this how you wanted it, Harvey?_ ) Without any further instruction, Bruce dropped onto his knees and started on opening Two-Face’s suit slacks. He shifted his hips when Bruce tugged at his trousers and when he settled down again, his thighs were bare under the velvet of the loveseat. Bruce’s fist was wrapped around his cock. ( _Does it feel good for you, Harvey? Does it?_ )

‘Condom.’ Bruce said. ‘There are some in the bag. There’s a variety. I wasn’t sure what you prefer.’

‘I’ll wear a condom when I fuck you. You blow me like this.’

‘No.’

Bruce seemed to address Two-Face’s cock, all of his focus on it. He could wrap his hand around him, but it was a close thing, his thumb and middle finger barely touching as he worked his hand up and down. It was too dry, but just being touched by someone else was enough for Two-Face to feel light-headed. Hell, he’d even consider wearing a condom if Bruce bothered to ask nicely.

‘What are you afraid of, boy? The big bad bat getting mad at you?’ Two-Face reached for Bruce’s face, pressing a thumb against his lip. Those pretty lips opened under his finger. ‘I’m not diseased. You blow me like this.’

If Bruce insisted, Two-Face decided, he would yield. If Bruce insisted, he’d get up and rifle through the bag and let Bruce put the condom on for him. But Bruce didn’t insist. Bruce hesitated for a second before he leaned in and lapped his tongue over Two-Face’s head, long insistent licks, wet and beautiful. He continued dragging his tongue over his cock just long enough that Two-Face was getting impatient, wondering if he should bury his fingers in Bruce’s hair and pull him in. Without any warning, Bruce opened his mouth and swallowed him down. Bruce took him in deeper, slow quarter-inch by slow quarter-inch.

Bruce Wayne sucked cock like he was made for it. Two-Face wondered if this is how Batman liked it too, wet and sloppy and resentful. ( _You wouldn’t like it, Harvey; you liked it soft and sweet like a bitch._ ) Bruce looked up at him and his eyes were as cold as his mouth was warm. He stared up at him with his cold fury and tried to take Two-Face in his throat. He pulled back, coughing and gagging. At the next attempt, he got a little farther and before he pulled back again, Two-Face felt that momentary blissful tightness.

‘I can’t–’ Bruce sounded frustrated, as mad at himself as with Two-Face.

‘Come on, sugar, I’m sure you can do it.’ Yes, Two-Face could count on one hand – and that’s including what he could remember from Harvey’s life – the number of times a sexual partner managed to take him fully, but if the girl he dated for three months in high school could deepthroat him, then _Bruce Wayne_ should be able to as well. ‘You just need the right incentive. Come on.’

Two-Face kicked off his shoes and shucked off his trousers and underwear and led Bruce towards the bed. Whoever had designed these hotel rooms must have had a taste for the exhibitionistic, considering the wall-to-wall mirror wardrobe facing the bed. Two-Face wanted to shake their hand. He tapped his foot on the spot in front of him and Bruce kneeled before him. In the mirror, he could see Bruce’s hands folded behind his back. What an obedient slut. When Two-Face looked down at him, Bruce’s eyes were dark and his mouth was open. He opened wider when Two-Face pushed inside, letting him in. 

‘Focus on your breathing. Come on, you can do it.’

With one hand in Bruce’s hair and the other cupping his neck, Two-Face set the pace, shallowly fucking Bruce’s mouth, slipping a little deeper with each thrust. He felt Bruce’s gasping breaths against the coarse curls. Every breath was a little shorter, a little tighter than the last. Soon enough, he decided he had been soft enough on Bruce. Two-Face tightened his grip on Bruce’s curls and pulled Bruce closer, forcing his cock in deeper. He turned and looked at Bruce in the mirror. He was beautiful with his mouth stretched around his cock, tears escaping from the corners of his eyes. ( _Will you remember this? Will it make you miserable? Will you remember your best friend’s mouth around my cock, Harvey?_ ) Bruce was well-trained enough to keep his hands out of the way, even though his fists curled and uncurled. Two-Face hadn’t even have to tell him to, but of _course_ Batman demanded obedience. When he was all the way inside, when he could feel Bruce’s nose pressed against his stomach and his chin against his balls, Two-Face held him there, moving one hand to clean away the tears leaking from Bruce’s eyes. After what felt like nothing at all, Bruce tapped his fingers against Two-Face’s ankles, a triplet of taps before a pause, then again. The tapping grew consistent, loud, and with his free hand Bruce put his hand over Two-Face’s, trying to wrench it away. Two-Face rolled his hips, pulling out and pushing right back in, just as deep. In the mirror, Bruce struggled to keep his eyes open and his tapping had grown erratic.

Two-Face let Bruce go and he fell to the floor, gagging and spitting. 

‘I told you to _stop_.’ Bruce’s voice was rough, corrugated iron and acid. 

‘You loved it. You wanted it.’

Bruce rubbed his hand over his throat, looking up with angry eyes. Two-Face barely recognised him as the vacant-minded socialite with unexpected depths, his face contorted into something dreadful and dark. It reminded him of Batman. 

‘You _stop_ when I tell you to.’

There was nothing to say to that. Two-Face shrugged and walked over to the bag Bruce had brought. He dumped it out on the bed and looked through the contents: an assortment of lubricants and several brands of condoms. He chose one of the lubricants and tore open one of the boxes. He tossed the rest on the floor.

‘Get on the bed. Face the mirror.’

Bruce sat on the bed, leaning on his elbow, like a Roman nobleman at rest. He said nothing. Even now, even in a situation like this, he seemed to have reclaimed that cool calm that only the richest in Gotham seemed to be able to master. He watched Two-Face finish removing his clothes and kept his eyes on the movement of Two-Face’s hands: tugging at his tie, undoing the buttons of his shirt, setting aside the cufflinks and slipping out of the shirt. ( _Bruce never looked at_ you _this way_.) When he was fully undressed, Bruce looked him up and down and swallowed. Two-Face climbed onto the bed and moved Bruce into the position he wanted him: kneeling on the bed, his strong back against Two-Face’s chest, his head tipped back against his chest. Two-Face’s hand fit well against the pale expanse of Bruce’s throat. He didn’t press down, but even so, he could feel Bruce shiver, long and cold. Two-Face couldn’t tell if it was from fear or from excitement. In the mirror, Bruce’s eyes were almost all black, his hair a tousled mess. Two-Face trailed his fingers down corded muscle, brushing over one nipple, then the other. He moved over his cock and cupped his balls, squeezing them hard before moving, too fast for Bruce to protest. Two-Face let go of him to grab the lube and pour some over his fingers. He returned his hand over Bruce’s throat and reached his slick hand between them, searching with two fingers. He laughed, half-surprised, when both fingers slipped in easily.

‘You already prepared yourself.’

‘I couldn’t feel sure that you’d take your time before the’ – Bruce stuttered when Two-Face pressed a third finger inside and he swallowed several times under Two-Face’s grip before he continued – ‘main event.’

‘Not very considerate, Bruce. Tell me…’ Two-Face couldn’t stop staring at Bruce’s reflection, his face open and defeated and yearning for more. He spread and curled his fingers. Bruce gasped like a dying man. ‘Did Batman help you, huh? He fingerfuck you in those gloves?’ Bruce shook his head, his eyes focusing and unfocusing with each shift of Two-Face’s fingers. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be thorough.’

Bruce was hot and slick, but not slick enough. Two-Face took his time working up to a rhythm, grazing over Bruce’s prostate every other thrust. Bruce’s body twitched with each hit. Sweat beaded along his hairline and his mouth hung open, his eyes fluttering shut. Two-Face squeezed the hand around Bruce’s throat.

‘Eyes on me,’ Two-Face ordered. Bruce blinked his eyes open. ‘ _I’m_ fucking you, not Harvey. Don’t think you can pretend.’ He curled his fingers, a ruthless twist that had Bruce’s red lips form a voiceless _o_. ‘I think that’s enough.’

Two-Face pulled out his fingers and Bruce made a sound, small and broken but not quite a whimper. He wiped his fingers on the sheets and reached for the lube again. He took his time working the lube along his length, brushing his cockhead down Bruce’s back, dipping just below his tailbone. He wrapped his hand around his cock and pressed the tip against Bruce’s hole. He watched Bruce shudder and then frown, his eyes clearing.

‘You’re not wearing a condom.’ He was too breathless to sound mad. To Two-Face, he sounded like a belligerent child. 

‘Do you care?’

Two-Face didn’t wait for an answer but pushed that first fraction of an inch inside. Bruce’s long eyelashes fluttered as he fought to keep his eyes open. He shook his head, mindless and confused. Two-Face put his slick hand on Bruce’s hip, holding him in place as he pressed himself deeper inside Bruce. Bruce’s eyes widened and his mouth grew slack again, his body yielding to Two-Face, trembling and wanting.

‘Harvey…’

The name was a whisper, if even that. Bruce’s eyes were soft and his mouth was red, kissable and open. _Harvey_ was what he said, and Two-Face grabbed his hair and slapped his palm over his face. Two-Face had half-expected to hear the sharp _crack_ of breaking cartilage. Bruce’s nose was fine, but the signet ring had left a scratch on his right cheek. The blood pooled in the scratch and Two-Face dragged it down Bruce’s face, spreading it over his mouth.

‘Not Harvey.’

Two-Face snapped his hips, as if to show Bruce the difference between how he and Harvey fucked. (The difference was: Harvey didn’t. Harvey was too much of a coward to take what he wanted.) Two-Face spread his left arm over Bruce’s chest, curling his hand around his right shoulder and grabbing his hair with his right hand. He rested his good side against Bruce’s cheek, his skin blissfully soft and warm, and met Bruce’s dazed eyes in the mirror.

‘It’s the main event, sugar.’

Bruce tried to say something when Two-Face pushed all the way in, but no words came out. He was awarded with breathless gasps and a tear-streaked face that might be the most pornographic thing Two-Face had ever seen. Bruce put his hand along his neck and Two-Face couldn’t feel it, the nerve endings eaten by acid, but he imagined the warmth of Bruce’s hand on his skin. The longer Bruce kept his hand there, the stranger the thought was. Bruce had reached out to touch _him_. ( _Bruce never reached out to touch_ you _. Look look look look, he’s touching me. Remember this, and know what you never had._ ) Two-Face kept up the pace. Bruce’s eyes were open but Two-Face wasn’t sure if he was seeing anything at all, pupils blown and eyes glassy. His fingers scraped inefficiently at Two-Face’s neck and he patted his palm once, twice, over his shoulder before digging his fingernails into Two-Face’s skin, keeping his hand there.

In their shared reflection, Bruce’s nipples were dusky, erect and dripping with sweat. Two-Face brushed the heel of his hand over Bruce’s right nipple. Bruce whimpered. It sounded like a white flag, like admitting defeat, like accepting a new leader. 

‘You can touch yourself, Bruce. Don’t you want to come on my cock?’

Two-Face couldn’t tell if the noise Bruce made was one of disgust or ecstasy but that didn’t matter, not when Bruce wrapped his fingers around his own cock, working up a rhythm that had his eyes rolled back in his head, grinding his hips down on Two-Face’s cock. He was getting close, Two-Face could feel it, his muscles clenching down on him, trying to milk him dry. (Could Batman fuck him like this? Did Batman fuck him like this?) Bruce was half-crying, unintelligible nonsense falling from his mouth, his face pressed against Two-Face’s unscarred side and gasping _Harvey Harvey Harvey–_

Bruce came, white cum splattered over his stomach and over Two-Face’s arm. Bruce shivered, high on his orgasm. He whimpered unhappily when Two-Face pulled out but let himself be flipped onto his back on the bed. Two-Face wanted to mark Bruce. He wanted to show Batman who was more of a man.

Two-Face spread Bruce’s legs and pushed back inside. Bruce pressed his thighs against Two-Face’s waist and struggled briefly before he settled down, gasping in time with each of thrusts, grasping at nothing with his fists. His eyes were wet. Two-Face fucked him hard and fast, memorising each of the furrows of Bruce’s face for Harvey to remember. ( _For you to remember and never to experience._ ) Two-Face shifted the pace and chased his orgasm with fast shallow thrusts and Bruce mewled, his spent cock twitching as if in apology, as though he wanted to come for him again. Bruce Wayne was a perfect cockslut.

‘Sugar, open wide.’

Bleary-eyed, Bruce opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. After one thrust of his hand, two, Two-Face came over Bruce’s face, painting his mouth and cheeks with white. Bruce closed his mouth and dragged his tongue between his teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut and closed his legs, knees pressed tight together.

Two-Face allowed himself to watch Bruce’s used body for another minute, to wonder about the cuts and bruises that were not his own doing. Bruce’s heavy breaths rattled in the quiet of the room. He didn’t know when, but Bruce’s left sock garter had slipped down, and Two-Face found himself with the unsettling desire to reach out and pull it back up, to fix it for Bruce. He decided against it and he decided against cleaning Bruce up. He was a grown man. He could take care of himself.

It was time to move, it was time to get going. Two-Face felt his body itch. He could feel all the directions fate pulled him in. He had made a deal with Batman. He was going to leave Gotham. That had been the deal. Two-Face didn’t think Batman was stupid enough to miss that he had left a loophole the size of Alaska in the deal. At no point had Batman said _forever_. Two-Face got dressed and fished out his lucky coin, pressing it against his fingers and his lips. When the coin would let him, he’d come back. Until then, he’d be gone.

Two-Face left the hotel room and did not spare a second glance at Bruce Wayne, half-sleeping in a bed for two.


End file.
